One of the earliest emphases of Eastern Orthodox thinking that I integrated into my own pastoral practice in the early ‘90s, when I was learning the basics from Fr David Glaze, was the “physical” dimension of salvation. We were reading Athanasius and Kalistos Ware together and Fr David repeatedly emphasized that the Orthodox doctrine of theosis was quite different than, Jacob Boehme (who I was reading at the same time in preparation for my next meeting with the Presbyterian group called the Company of Pastors). For Boehme, union with Christ was spiritual and “mystical” in the sense that the word has been used in Western spiritualities such as the almost orthodox approach of Boehme (imho), and the far more wacky and somewhat Gnostic approach of Owen Barfield (one of the Inklings who was embraced by American Evangelicals, where I originally became acquainted with him). Fr David emphasized that the Eastern approach to theosis necessarily included regular ingestion of the Body of Christ in the Eucharist. It was not just mental (Boehme’s approach), nor was it primarily moral (for instance, the argument put forth by Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest). Theosis had a mental aspect (the nous, or mind) and a moral aspect (the will), but it necessarily had a physical aspect (the Eucharist) as well.
Last week I read Paul Gavrilyuk’s article, “How Deification was Rediscovered in Modern Orthodox Theology: The Contribution of Ivan Popov,” and once again ran into Athanasius’ claim that theosis (or deification) was physicali. While Athanasius does speak of the Eucharist, when he speaks of the “physical,” he’s not speaking of the material world, he is speaking of human nature (Greek word physis). According to Gavrilyuk, “Athanasius held both the ‘physical’ (having to do with human physis or nature) and the ‘moral’ (having to do with human will) aspects of salvation as interconnected: there could be no permanent improvement of the human condition without the renewal of human nature as a whole; there could be no transformation of a particular human person without the associated cooperation of an individual human will” (p 112).
Athanasius’ focus was very different than the approach I took to the whole subject. I was thinking of “physical” (physis) in terms of material reality. Athanasius was thinking of physical in terms of what is natural to human beings. Athanasius was writing long before the Western doctrine of super-nature developed. It is not uncommon for theologians of the West to speak of God’s act in Christ as “super-natural.” Over the years I have had close association with several Lutheran pastors and theologians and I have always bristled at the notion (so common among them) that divine righteousness is alien to us. Luther spoke of the righteousness we received from God as “alien righteousness.” While I do have an affinity for the overall thrust of Luther’s argument, that language lends itself to bad theology. Righteousness is not alien; we were created to be righteous. Grace is not super-natural; it is woven into the very fabric of creation and is thus sublimely natural. The natural shape of our being is such that we are incomplete without being righteous (in right relationship) to God. It is Blaise Pascal’s “God-shaped hole.”
And this, I now recognize, was the central thrust of Athanasius’ argument. Theosis (or the more Catholic term, deification, or the Protestant conception of righteousness, when properly understood as “right relationship”) is natural (rooted in our physis, or human nature), which makes the possibility of moral transformation (rooted in our will) possible. Theosis (or righteousness) is the restoration of what is natural to us. The thing that is alien is sin rather than righteousness.
This does not deny the validity of the Orthodox emphasis on the material aspect of salvation (both the receiving of the Eucharist and the Russian idea of podvig, or “struggle” to tightly grasp hold of that which God has given us, which lies in sharp contrast to prelest, or the “spiritual illusion” that we can become righteous by means invented by us), but this emphasis has little to do with what Athanasius meant by the “physical,” which is our divinely created human nature, which sin cannot erase, only mar and obscure.
As I’ve pondered Gavrilyuk’s article over the last week, I once again have come to appreciate and glory in God’s ability to take our misunderstandings of ancient truth and use them for good. I got Athanasius wrong. He wasn’t talking about the material world in the way I was thinking about it. But in the very process of getting Athanasius wrong, I also got a different important aspect of ancient truth right. Now, in my dotage, I have the responsibility of untangling those threads and returning the tapestry of truth to its original design. Mea culpa, and soli Deo Gloria.
iPaul Gavrilyuk, “How Deification was Rediscovered in Modern Orthodox Theology: The Contribution of Ivan Popov,” Modern Theology 38:1, Jan 2022, pp 100-127, accessed on 6/7/2024 from https://www.academia.edu/111091294/HOW_DEIFICATION_WAS_REDISCOVERED_IN_MODERN_ORTHODOX_THEOLOGY_THE_CONTRIBUTION_OF_IVAN_POPOV
Just Another Jim 
This is fascinating. At first, I thought it was going to be over my head, but I read it anyway and am pretty sure I understand what you got wrong, and then got straight. Thanks for this little lesson.
Do you still have a diverse group of men to meet with who like to talk in person about theology?
Not so much. The current crop of local pastors aren’t academically oriented. They have been swallowed up by the current ecclesiastical instability of nearly all the Protestant denominations and just want to talk church splits and turf wars. I do have a couple of colleagues that I have never met face to face. We were part of a group of sparring partners on EcuNet/PresbyNet, a list serve used by all sorts of religious and clerical types back in the day. Three of us have remained in close contact, but they no longer post their comments on my blog. We are quite confrontational with each other (the standard style of academic conversation of 50 years ago that evidently traumatizes many of the youngsters of today). What we discovered is that candid disagreement in a WordPress comment section attracts the trolls, so we communicate by email. It was one of the great gifts of the Presbyterian Church (again, back in the day, but times have changed). So many Presbyterian (and Episcopal) pastors were both intellectually curious and academically astute, that there were almost always conversation partners close at hand if one took the time to look. That’s a rare combination, but was actually quite common in the PC(USA) before everything became about deconstructing the tradition. I keep telling myself that a WordPress blog is not place for academic and exegetical deep dives, but in retirement it has become my primary outlet. I often think “brilliant” thoughts, but when I put them to paper and consider posting them where everyone can see, the discipline of putting word on paper shows me that I am merely bloviating. So I guess the blog is a sort of conversation with my private and public self, with a handful of others listening in.